


And You May Ask Yourself

by makesomelove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst, Body Horror, Disturbing Themes, Humor, Journey Through Time and Space, M/M, Temporary Character Death, What-If, buncha wigs, despair - Freeform, wigs everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:14:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1790125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesomelove/pseuds/makesomelove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you mean, ‘was’?” Zayn says. “Aren’t these just things that <i>might</i> happen?” </p><p>“Uh, no,” Veronica says, looking at Zayn like he’s got the thickest skull in the world. “These are things that <i>will</i> happen.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	And You May Ask Yourself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unfortunate17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfortunate17/gifts).



> Written for unfortunate17 for [ziam_exchange](http://ziam-exchange.livejournal.com/) 2k14. Original prompt: "Zayn gets kicked out of One Direction the day that he missed that first band meeting and the other four boys become ridiculously successful without him. One day, Zayn comes down to the show to watch the band that he could have been in. He doesn't want to be found, but Liam would recognize him anywhere." This result is probably NOT quite exactly what you had in mind when you submitted your prompt, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. It takes a village: thank you to coldbam and dudski for being SOUNDING BOARDS, IDEA MAKERS and FACT KNOWERS, rlottery for telling me this story is bonkers and being with my through my suffering at all times, and of course to gentlehousing for reading this and fixing it to make it better. 
> 
> **NOTE ON THE CHARACTER DEATH:** I would like to say it is a comical death, and it is indeed not permanent. It's based on [this incident](http://rubdown.tumblr.com/post/88528030619/breezylovesfudge-stitchedwrists) and the comments within and what would happen if perhaps Zayn had not been there if you know what I mean. I don't want you to be scared away, but I understand if you don't want to or can't deal with it. Please message me if you have any questions or concerns.  
> 

SUMMER 2010

Zayn opens his window and looks up at the sky. It’s cloudy except for a few patches of stars, but disappointingly, no shooting star he can wish on, no sign he could ask for. He’s just been placed in this group and he’s not sure if he should continue on with them or not. He knows now he didn’t have what it takes to make it on his own, that much is clear after going through this competition. He doesn’t know if he’ll be good for the group, either, or if he’ll just bring them down. He can’t dance. He’s not a professional singer. They’re all just young boys - they barely know each other. Tomorrow morning they’re supposed to meet up and discuss their game plan. 

“Let’s meet up and discuss our game plan,” Louis said a week ago before they all went home for a break and it all started back up again. Everyone nodded right away, totally up for it. Zayn chewed his lip and stayed quiet. He didn’t quite know what game he was supposed to be playing. Harry put his hand on Louis’, Niall put his hand on Harry’s, Liam put his hand on Niall’s, and Zayn hesitated. Slowly, unsurely, he put his hand on their hand pile, and Liam smiled at him. They all shouted something different to break their huddle. 

“We’ve got time to work on that,” Louis said. “See you boys next week.” 

Now Zayn is more nervous than ever about his future. He wants to sing, of course, but he doesn’t know if he can go through with this. The lads could probably easily go on without him and be just fine. His mum would be disappointed, but she’d still support his decision no matter what. The thought of not going with them tugs at his gut and makes him ill, though. The thought of jumping into this feet first is even worse. 

He says a silent prayer up to whoever may be listening, and goes to sleep. 

~*~ 

Zayn wakes up in the middle of the night. 

“Mr. Malik,” a soft voice says. 

“Huh?” Zayn mumbles. 

“I’m sorry to do this, Mr. Malik, but you have to get up.” The voice is gentle but firm, feminine, and decidedly American. 

Zayn’s blankets are ripped off him and a tray is placed on his lap by a shadowy figure. 

“Who’s there?” Zayn says. “Mum?” 

“Excuse me, but I do not look old enough to be your mother,” the voice says. The light flicks on suddenly and Zayn sees who’s speaking to him. She’s a tall, willowy woman, with long, curly black hair, cat-eye glasses, and an eerily familiar face, though Zayn can’t place it. She’s dressed to go to work in an office, in a blouse and smart skirt, her big hands well-manicured. 

“Umm,” Zayn says. “Guess you’re not my mum.” 

“I’m Veronica,” she says. She smooths her skirt out and takes a seat in the chair by Zayn’s desk. “I’m here to help you answer your question.” 

“What question?” Zayn says. The tray she put on his lap smells good, and Zayn lifts the lid over the plate to find steaming hot Weetabix in a bowl. “What’s in this?” 

“Jesus,” Veronica says with a scoff. “Your priorities are weird, you know that? A strange woman breaks into your room in the middle of the night, and you’re worried about what’s in your Weetabix?” 

“I just - like Weetabix,” Zayn says, although he supposes it is strange. For some reason he’s completely calm in Veronica’s presence, like he’s met her before. He trusts her. 

“It’s peanut butter and banana,” Veronica says, her eyes softening. “Eat up, then we gotta go.” 

“Where are we going?” Zayn says, stuffing his mouth full. “What time is it?” 

“Ugh,” Veronica says. “Don’t you get it? I’m here to help you figure it out.” 

“Figure what out?” 

“If you should go to that meeting tomorrow or not,” Veronica says. “You asked, remember?” 

Zayn eyes his window suspiciously and wonders how Veronica heard his silent plea to the stars for a sign. Maybe he spoke aloud without realizing and she happened to be strolling by and heard him. Maybe she can read minds. Maybe she’s an angel. 

“Nah,” Zayn says to himself, shaking his head and laughing a little. “How are you gonna help me?” 

“Well, figuring stuff out is my job,” Veronica says. “We’re just going to - explore your options. Okay? We’ll take a look around, see what it would be like - “

“If I never existed?” Zayn says.  
“No,” Veronica says. “You’ll still exist. You didn’t ask what it’d be like if you never existed, silly goose. We’ll see what it would be like if you don’t go to that meeting tomorrow. If you don’t join the group.”

“Sure, yeah,” Zayn says. “This is all a dream, isn’t it?” 

Veronica raises an eyebrow. She takes off her glasses and looks into them like she’s searching for something, then closes her eyes and puts them back on her face. 

~*~ 

Zayn is in a church. Just a second ago he was in his pajamas, eating Weetabix in the middle of the night. There are people everywhere, weeping and laughing, sometimes at the same time. He appears to be queueing up for something, and he figures he’s right in the middle of the queue. It’s moving steadily, and he steps forward with everyone else. The woman behind him is dressed from head to toe in black, with a veil hanging from her wide brim hat to conceal her face.

“Excuse me,” Zayn says to her. “Could you tell me where we are?” 

“You are so silly,” Veronica says, lifting the veil up. She gestures all around her face and head, holding her gloved hands up next to her face. “Do you like my hat? I got it on sale, and the gloves were BOGO with it. It was still like, $90 though.” 

“Whose funeral?” Zayn says, searching all around for someone he knows, but not recognizing anyone. “It’s not - it’s not mine, is it?” 

“No,” Veronica says, visibly deflating. “You’re here. See?” 

She pinches his arm and it hurts, really bad. He yelps and the people in the queue in front of him turn and give them a dirty look. Veronica winks and smiles at them. 

“No, honey, this is someone else’s funeral,” Veronica says. 

There are dozens and dozens of funeral wreaths at the front of the church, more flowers than Zayn’s ever seen in his entire life. He can’t see who’s up there yet, people crowding around the casket and saying their final goodbyes. Zayn feels terrible that all these people are here mourning and he doesn’t even know the person, like he’s some kind of funeral crasher who comes for free food. He looks down at himself and he’s wearing the suit he wore to his cousin’s wedding earlier this year. 

“Oh my god, why am I wearing this?” Zayn says, self consciously tugging at his sleeves to try to make them longer. The sleeves and trousers of the suit are at least a couple inches too short, so his ankles and wrists are exposed. He looks like a bad Michael Jackson impersonator. 

“It was the only thing you had in your closet that was even close to being appropriate,” Veronica says. 

“What’s - did I grow all of a sudden?” Zayn says. 

“You’ve aged,” Veronica says. She digs in her little black purse and comes up with a little mirror. Zayn looks into it, and what is clearly an older version of himself stares back at him. “See? I told you. You’re here. This is all real.” 

They’re getting closer and closer to the front, and Zayn feels panic set into his bones. He’s never had to say goodbye to somebody, and he’s afraid of who it might be. It could be his mum, or one of his sisters, or Danny or Ant. He doesn’t know what he’s done by choosing the paths that he’s chosen, and it’s terrifying him. He pokes his head around the crowd, standing on his tip-toes until he can catch a glimpse of the person whose passing he’s meant to be mourning. 

There, in a glass case like something out of a fairytale, lay a crude depiction of an older Harry Styles. His eyes are wide open and there’s a smile plastered on his face. He looks like a doll. Zayn feels sick. Harry is such a - was, he was such a good kid. He was so talented and kind. Now here he is, on display for the masses. Zayn’s stomach sinks into his shoes. 

“What happened?” Zayn says. “That’s Harry, isn’t it?” 

“Well, kind of,” Veronica says. “Here, put these on.” 

Veronica takes her glasses off and shoves them on Zayn’s nose. 

“Oh my god,” Zayn says, shutting his eyes. “You must be blind. This prescription is really strong.” 

“Just give it a second,” Veronica says. 

When he opens his eyes again, the people and the church and everything are gone. All Zayn sees is a stage and a crowd of screaming girls, bright lights shining on four people. It’s the lads, he realizes. Niall, Harry, Liam, and Louis are up on that stage, and Zayn feels his heart fill with pride at seeing them up there, knowing that they’ve made it, but at the same time, instant regret that they’re up there without him. What he doesn’t like is that they’ve all got the exact same hair and are wearing identical outfits, and they’re doing robotic choreography. Even to his ears it sounds like they’re not really singing live.

Harry gets distracted by something off to his left. Right in the middle of an elaborate set of dance moves, Harry breaks away and sprints towards the edge of the stage. Someone’s thrown an apple, and he bends to pick it up. He holds it above his head and waves it around, and the crowd starts getting confused and angry. Niall tries to wave Harry back over to them, patting his knees like Harry is a little dog, and Harry obeys when he slips in a puddle of something wet. He lands on his bum, and also apparently on a piece of equipment that shoots giant fireballs. 

“Harry,” Niall says in a squeaky voice. 

A huge pyrotechnic explosion goes off, right where Harry lay. 

Zayn covers his mouth and screams. He whips the glasses off and he’s back in the church, with Veronica next to him nodding sadly. 

“Pretty gruesome, huh?” Veronica says, slipping her glasses back on. “That’s why they’re using his wax figure from that museum. There wasn’t really much of a body to recover after that. That was such a bad show that Ticketmaster even refunded everyone’s tickets. It was the least they could do. I mean, literally, like the least they could do. Ticketmaster is the worst.” 

“What do you mean, ‘was’?” Zayn says. “Aren’t these just things that might happen?” 

“Uh, no,” Veronica says, looking at Zayn like he’s got the thickest skull in the world. “These are things that will happen.”

“Someone could’ve stopped him,” Zayn says, jaw clenching with frustration. “Everyone knew when the pyro was gonna go off. Someone should’ve been looking after him!” 

“You’re right,” Veronica says ominously. “Someone should look after him. Someone should make sure he doesn’t get himself hurt, or worse.” 

Zayn gazes up at the wax representation of what used to be his young friend. Last time he saw Harry, their journey had only just begun. They’d cried together. Now he’s not here anymore, and Zayn is. 

“It’s such a shame, too” Veronica says, biting her lip and looking Harry’s wax figure an up and down. “He was cute. Like, really cute. He was always like, doing that whole ‘I’m a sexy baby’ thing, so you didn’t know if you wanted to tuck him in or sleep with him. Mm, mm, mm. Such a shame.” 

“What happens to the other lads?” Zayn says. 

Veronica makes a face. “Are you sure you want to know?” 

“Yes,” Zayn says. “It can’t be worse than this.”

Veronica takes her glasses off and breathes on them, then looks into them once again. 

~*~ 

He is in the forest. In the distance, smoke billows out of the chimney of a small wooden cabin. Zayn thinks it looks cozy and inviting, and he steps towards it. Veronica puts her hand on his arm and stops him, pointing at the ground with her manicured finger. There are wire trips and bear traps everywhere. 

“Couldn’t you have got us closer?” Zayn says. 

“That would’ve been worse,” Veronica says. “I can get us through this. Just be quiet and follow me.” 

Veronica leads him on a random, zig-zag path through the traps. Every second Zayn feels like they’re going to take a wrong step and end up with their legs chopped off or hanging upside down from a tree branch, but somehow they make it all the way until they’re close enough to see the little potato garden in front and the animal skins hanging from the fence out back. There are several wigs nailed to one wall, all along the edge of the roof. One of them is blonde, one is half blonde and half brunette, one completely dark, but there are some in wilder colors, lilac and bright blue. Birds have made homes in some of them, and they flap around nervously as Zayn and Veronica approach. There’s a dark, curly wig unoccupied by any living thing nailed to the corner of the cabin that gives Zayn the chills. 

“Whose cabin is it?” Zayn asks. He turns back when there’s no answer, fearing Veronica has left him, but finds her staring down her own shirt. Zayn looks down at his own clothes to see if he’s still wearing that ill-fitting suit, but he’s just got on jeans and a red plaid shirt keeping him warm. His arms are covered in tattoos he has no memory of getting nor any memory of wanting to get. The microphone seems obvious, but the other things inked into his skin have him puzzled. “ZAP!”? “MSG”? “BUS 1”? He can’t begin to understand what these could possibly mean to him, but there they are plain as day and permanent. 

“Hm?” Veronica says. “Oh, sorry. I was looking at my breasts. They look great in this sports bra! I should go hiking more often. What’d you say, Mr. Malik?” 

“Who lives here?” Zayn says. He steps closer to the door and lifts his arm, readying himself to knock. 

“I wouldn’t do that,” Veronica stays his hand. She takes him around the other side of the house so they can peek in the window. 

Harry stares at them through the glass. Zayn nearly screams but Veronica pinches him so it turns into a small whimper. He realizes it’s not Harry but Harry’s wax figure, from the funeral they just left. 

“Sorry,” Veronica says, her voice hushed. “I didn’t know that was gonna be there. I think he like, moves it around.” 

“Who?” Zayn says. “Who has it? And why?” 

“I don’t know,” Veronica says. “It probably comforts him or something. Like when people stuff their dogs?” Zayn makes a face and Veronica is quick to say that the Harry in the window is indeed wax and not a stuffed Harry. 

There’s a movement inside the cabin and Zayn ducks, his heart beating like a wild animal. When nothing happens, he pokes his head up to look at who’s inside. 

Niall is completely naked but for the guitar in his lap. He strums a few chords, tweaks the tuning a bit, then starts playing a full song. He’s bald, only a few dark wisps growing from intermittent places on his head. 

Zayn looks past the open-eyed stare of the ghost of Harry to see how Niall is living. There are several more wigs nailed to the walls inside. Dozens of guitars are smashed to pieces on the floor. A variety of guns hang displayed on the wall inside, though Zayn is pretty sure they’re not just to look at. 

“He’s a bit skittish,” Veronica says. “He always was, but after, well, the incident, he kind of had a complete breakdown.” 

“Why’s he bald?” Zayn says. 

“Stress,” Veronica says. “It was like - like, that episode of The Simpsons! Remember, when Marge’s hair falls out - “ She gestures hair coming off her hair in clumps. 

“Oh yeah, yeah, I remember that episode,” Zayn says. 

“That’s one of my favorite episodes,” Veronica says. 

Zayn looks back inside and Niall is violently strumming now, the guitar in his hands struggling to make the sounds that Niall feels. 

“Why’s he like this?” Zayn says. “Why’d he become a recluse?” 

When Zayn saw Niall last, he was surrounded by a group of people and loving every second of it. He was the most cheerful, happy-go-lucky kid Zayn’s ever met. He also had a full head of hair. Now to see him completely alone in his secluded cabin, surrounded by weapons and traps to keep people away, it strikes a nerve in Zayn. 

“He couldn’t take it anymore,” Veronica says. 

“Take what?” 

~*~

Suddenly they’re front row at a concert, surrounded by screaming girls and strobing lights. Zayn finds Veronica adjusting her glasses and then pulling her hair back and holding it there. 

“It’s so hot in here!” Veronica yells over the music, which Zayn vaguely recognizes. 

“Where are we?” He shouts. 

“At a Four Directions concert, silly!” Veronica says. She turns briefly to the girl next to her, who’s crying, and whispers something in her ear. The girl hands her a hair tie and Veronica puts her hair in a messy ponytail. 

Four Directions, Zayn thinks to himself. That’s a terrible name. He looks up at the stage, the strobing finally done, and sees Liam, Harry, Niall, and Louis up on stage. They’re in the same outfits as - the concert where Harry - 

“I don’t want to be here!” Zayn shouts at Veronica. “I don’t want to see this!” 

“It’s okay,” Veronica says. “This is before that. They wear the same costumes every night.” 

Zayn watches as the boys dance, their movements mechanical and totally synchronized. It’s beautiful, in a creepy way. Their mouths move to the words, but Zayn still doesn’t buy that they’re really singing. It’s a shame to see these talented boys like this. He knows what they sound like, and he wishes their real voices were being heard. 

The next song is a slow song. Their stage hands bring out stools for them to sit on, and they sit in a half circle, looking out into the crowd, but their eyes absorb nothing. Zayn can see so clearly from how close he is that they don’t look happy, they don’t look like they’re enjoying themselves. He watches as Liam absently scans the faces of the front row, and their eyes meet. 

Zayn feels like he’s been caught spying on something he shouldn’t have seen. He breaks the eye contact first, but he can’t help but gaze back up. Liam is staring at him, singing his lines of the song. Then when it’s someone else’s turn to sing, he mouths, “Zayn?” 

Zayn shakes his head and tries to hide behind Veronica. He wants to talk to Liam, but he knows he’s probably not allowed to, not like this. 

“Uh oh,” Veronica says. “We better go.” 

~*~ 

Zayn and Veronica are crammed tight into a dark closet. A single shred of light filters through a small crack in the door and falls over Veronica’s eyes, which is the only reason he can tell it’s her with him and not a bogeyman. 

“Shh,” Veronica says. “Keep quiet.” 

“Where are we?” Zayn whispers. 

There’s a loud slam in the room outside the closet. Angry voices shouting over one another follow shortly after. Zayn peeks through the crack in the door and sees Liam and Louis are at each other’s throats. Literally, they have their hands around each other’s throats and are trying to choke one another. Niall physically separates them, his blonde-and-brunette wig getting knocked crooked and then completely falling to the floor, revealing his patchy-haired head, but they get right back in each other’s faces, spit flying from their mouths as they yell. 

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that!” Louis screeches. “You’re the one who fucked up this time!” 

“I didn’t fuck up,” Liam says. “You never take it seriously.” 

“You take it too seriously!” Louis says. “I stepped out of line one time!” 

“One time tonight,” Liam says. “If you don’t want to do the work, then leave the band!” 

“You leave the fucking band!” Louis says, snarling. “I know you want to. You’ve wanted to go solo since we started.” 

“That’s because you’re all shit,” Liam says. “I’m the only one who’s any good.” 

“They don’t give us a chance,” Louis said, his voice breaking as it raises. “Me and Niall never get to sing.” 

“Good,” Liam says. 

“Listen here,” Louis says, poking Liam in the chest roughly. 

Liam retaliates by shoving Louis so hard he lands on the table in front of Harry, fruit and potato chips flying everywhere. The table breaks and Louis stays down, his eyes wide in shock. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Liam says. He storms off, slamming the door behind him. 

Niall is visibly shaken. He looks over to Harry, perhaps for comfort, perhaps for another calm person to look at and say with their eyes, “can you believe this?” Harry is too busy playing with a ball of yarn to notice anything. Niall is alone in dealing with it. 

“This is terrible,” Zayn says, trembling horribly. He’s angry that they’re treating each other this way. “We were all getting along pretty well, I thought. It was like, the beginning of a beautiful friendship and all that.” 

“It never was a good dynamic, with just the four of them,” Veronica says. “Something was always slightly off.” 

“Can we leave?” Zayn says. “I don’t want to be here anymore.” 

“Sure, honey,” Veronica says. “But we can’t go home, yet. We still have a couple of stops to make.” 

 

~*~ 

They're in another dark room, or what Zayn hopes is a room. There isn't a single scrap of light. It's pitch black, and Zayn actually feels his face to check if he's been blindfolded, but it really is just that dark. The last time they were in a dark room, Veronica told him to be quiet, so he stays that way now. She stands beside him and presses her shoulder to his, but he does not feel safe. A steady dripping echoes against the walls and ricochets back, and he can practically feel the caress of it against his skin, calling out to him. Visions of what it could be fill his head and terror rips through his body, but he stays still. There's a burning pain in his arm, like a deep cut, and when he touches it the skin is raised angry and damp. 

A door opens, letting in a blinding light. Before the door closes again Zayn takes a look at his arm, afraid he's bleeding, but it's one of the tattoos he doesn't understand. The "ZAP!" one is inked in all black where before it was a bright red. He has more tattoos, but he doesn't get a chance to look at all of them before the door closes again. 

A shadowy figure is silhouetted by the light coming out from wherever it came, then made invisible again by the darkness, swallowed whole. Zayn hears the figure's footsteps and can't tell if it's getting closer or further away, the echoes in the room making it difficult to understand what's real. Zayn feels faint. He doesn't like not knowing what's going to happen to him. 

Suddenly a flash bursts from the ceiling and pools on the floor. Zayn ducks his head from the piercing radiance and sees his toes and Veronica's toes are dipped into the light. He puts his arm across Veronica's front and moves both of them two steps back, so they're concealed in the shadows. Zayn hopes whatever he sees cannot see them. 

The source of the light is a single exposed lightbulb. Its chain swings from being yanked. Underneath it is a full length mirror leaning against the wall, which is exposed grey brick. Zayn half expects blood to start seeping out from the cracks. The room is otherwise completely empty, so far as he can see. He still doesn't know what's behind or above them. There's concrete under their feet and a single door straight ahead. A slight boy with hair down to his waist stands in front of the mirror and strips his clothes off. Each item of clothing he removes seems to agitate him as he looks in the mirror and what he sees isn't what he wants to see. When he's completely naked, he sits down on the ground and opens a suitcase. The suitcase is full of little compartments and bottles, but Zayn can't see what they're for. 

"Alright?" The boy says, his voice high and clear, and Zayn recognizes it instantly. It's Louis. Louis puts contacts in his eyes, the icy blue becoming warmer and transformed into a soft green. 

"Alright," Louis answers himself, his voice slow and deep.

Zayn looks at Veronica for some sort of explanation, but she makes a face and shrugs. 

Louis brushes his hair twenty times, counting each stroke out loud. He pulls it back efficiently into a simple bun, then reaches into his case and dips his fingers into a small tin. His fingertips come up blood red and he smears it on his cheeks, then carefully over his lips, then cleans whatever's left by sucking his fingers into his mouth and licking over them. 

“Knock knock,” Louis says in a voice that’s someone else’s. 

“Who’s there?” He says in his own voice. His laughs to himself without finishing the joke. 

Zayn is profoundly disturbed. He doesn't want to see this anymore. It seems like a very private ritual, and a bizarre one at that. Veronica makes no move to search for another place for them to go, only digs her elbow into his side and gestures for him to keep watching.

Louis takes a curly wig out from a pocket in his case and carefully places it on his head, sliding it around so it's where he wants it. Zayn wants to ask what's with all the wigs in these scenarios. He wonders if Veronica is wearing a wig, but he doesn't dare speak. 

Excuse you, this is not a wig. This is my hair, Veronica’s voice says inside his mind. 

What the hell? Are you inside my mind? Zayn says. 

I’m inside everything, Veronica says. I’m older than time and the sound of my real voice, blah, blah, blah, you know the rest. Just get over it, okay? 

Okay, Zayn says. But stay out of my mind. 

Louis appears to be muttering nonsense under his breath. Zayn only catches some of it. “Stretchy nips,” Louis whispers. “Nice sandwich. Always naked, yes. Always naked.” 

Then Louis takes out some kind of needle, and Zayn can't look. The last time Zayn saw Louis, Louis was lying down next to him in Liam and Niall’s room, the one they shared at boot camp, wrapped up in blankets and smiling to himself. He kept squeezing his own face, as if making sure he was really there. It was right after they were put together, right after Louis was told he made it. He said to Zayn, "I can't believe this is real. Can you?" 

Now Zayn looks at Louis and can't believe this is what’s real now. It can't be. He doesn't want it to be real. Louis sticks the needle into his cheek, then into the other. It gives him dimples that he didn't have before. Louis begins crying, just tears rolling down his cheeks at first, then it builds to racking, uncontrollable sobs, his body jerking and face contorting with anguish. 

Louis is unrecognizable as himself. He looks just like Harry, now, his costume complete and his facade believable to untrained eyes. He begins dressing himself, throwing on some baggy jeans and a cardigan, loosely tying a printed scarf around his neck. 

“Ba-na-na,” Louis enunciates into the mirror, his mouth stretching ghoulishly around the vowels. “Bo-no-no. Be-ne-ne.” He repeats these over and over, jaw opening to the point where Zayn is afraid something is trapped inside him and is trying to escape from his mouth. 

“Oh, the show’s about to start,” Veronica says, and they’re out of there before Louis has a chance to turn around and catch them.

~*~

Zayn and Veronica are seated front row again, but this time in a golden theatre. Zayn is wearing an ascot and a suit, and he feels like he's going to suffocate. Veronica is seated next to him in a dress, flipping through a show program, and she's wearing a giant diamond engagement ring. 

"There's always like, that patch of hair that I miss shaving," Veronica says, rubbing her knee. "I can never get it!" 

"Are you engaged?" Zayn says, gesturing to her ring. 

"No. I only wear this when I go out so guys will leave me alone." 

"Does it work?" Zayn says. 

"No," Veronica says. "Men are terrible. I wish I could become a lesbian. Believe me, I’ve tried.” 

Everyone shuffles to their seats in the theatre. Soon the lights dim and the red curtains on stage open up. A figure steps out on the right and a spotlight lands on them. 

"Hello," the familiar voice booms out. It's Louis doing his full Harry impersonation. "I'm Harry Styles. I'm sixteen years old. I work in a bakery. I’m always naked." 

The audience laughs.

"And I'm - from - " The rest of the stage lights up, revealing the set. Rolling green hills are the backdrop for a quaint little bridge crossing over a small river. 

"Hoooooolmes Chapelllllll!" Louis sings out, breaking into a twirling dance. Other dancers come out, all dressed as different flowers and trees. Louis dances a waltz with them, spinning around and jumping off the other props. 

"It's a fucking musical?" Zayn says. "He's in a musical about Harry?" 

"He wrote, directs, produces, and stars in it," Veronica says. "And," she says, pointing at a passage in the program, "it's in its second year run. It got rave reviews!" 

Zayn is gobsmacked. The Louis on stage jumps off the bridge and lands in a giant cherry pie, which is the end of the first song. Louis is parading around as their dead friend, who in Zayn's mind has only been gone for a few hours. 

"It says here he wrote it to deal with the tragedy of losing his dear friend," Veronica says. She pauses and thinks about it. "He probably should've gone to a grief counselor first."

"Can we leave?" Zayn says. Louis is singing a song about Harry's first kiss and dancing erotically against a person dressed as a tree. "I'm very uncomfortable." 

"We're not even at the best part yet," Veronica says. "I hear there's full frontal male nudity. And he burns of effigy of Harry at the end!" 

"Veronica, please," Zayn says. 

"Okay, fine," Veronica says. “But this isn’t even the worst thing. Right? He seems pretty happy up there. At least he’s like, alive.” 

Zayn flinches. 

“Sorry,” Veronica says. “Too soon?” 

~*~

Zayn is in a bathroom. He looks up into the mirror and he’s hot. Like, really hot. He admires himself for a minute - he’s got a nice growth of stubble on his jaw, his hair is soft and laying against his forehead, like it was when he was young, like it was just a little while ago before this all began. He’s got on some glasses that make him look like a sexy secretary, not unlike Veronica’s, but square. There’s a bump from underneath him that jostles him to the side, and he has to grip the walls to keep his balance. That’s when he realizes what kind of bathroom he’s in. He’s only ever seen them in movies or on the telly, but he knows he’s in an airplane bathroom. Panic sets in - he’s never been on an airplane before. 

There’s a knock on the door and it opens up without him answering. Luckily it’s only Veronica. 

“Wanna join the mile high club?” Veronica says. “Just kidding. Ew. Sorry, that was unprofessional.” 

“I’m gonna be sick,” Zayn says. 

Veronica takes him out of the bathroom and leads them to their seats. He gives her the window seat. She opens it up and Zayn chances a peek outside. It’s night, and all he can see are tiny sparkles of light far below them. The plane itself has only dim lights on, and it’s very quiet. In fact, there’s only one other person on the flight. 

“That’s Liam, isn’t it?” Zayn says. Liam is asleep in his seat, drool spilling out of his mouth as he nearly tips over onto the floor. “What’s happened to him?” 

“You know when JT went solo?” Veronica says. 

“Wow, he’s like JT?” Zayn says. 

“No,” Veronica says. “He’s more like when JC went solo.” 

“Oh,” Zayn says. 

“I know, right?” Veronica says. “I’m really mad about how that went down. I think the world just wasn’t ready for solo JC yet. Like, some girls dance with women? Uh, yeah. It was amazing. He should’ve waited until now to come out with that. Now’s he’s like, singing Lumineers songs in banquet halls? Joey is in hair transplant infomercials. Lance is doing okay because he has a radio show or something, but I never listen to it because I don’t wanna pay for Sirius. Who even knows where Chris Kirkpatrick is! Meanwhile, Justin ruined Janet Jackson’s career and all he’s doing is writing a bunch of songs about Jessica Biel. Who cares? It’s all - “

“Veronica,” Zayn says. Then, “Jessica Biel?” 

“Sorry,” Veronica says. “You probably shouldn’t know about that. Forget I said anything.” 

“Hey, by the way,” Zayn says. “What am I up to, then? If I’m not in the band, what have I been doing with my life?” 

“Oh, you know,” Veronica says. She takes her glasses off and puts them on his head over the glasses he’s already got on, but all he sees is an extremely close up shot of a young woman vigorously fingering herself until she squirts. 

“Umm,” Zayn says, stammering. “I don’t think this is what you meant to show me.” 

“Oh god,” Veronica says. She rips both pairs of glasses from Zayn’s face and laughs nervously. “Sorry. That was just - a movie I was watching. It was an instructional video. It was educational! I was learning something! I get bored waiting for people to have their existential epiphanies, okay? Like, I’ve seen all this already. It’s a re-run. Right? I have to do something to entertain myself. We all do it, okay? Okay?” 

“Okay,” Zayn says, putting his hands up in surrender.

“How old are you again? Don’t answer that. Just forget what you saw.” She searches in the lenses and breathes out a heavy sigh before handing them back to Zayn. “That should be the right one.” 

It’s Zayn, the Zayn he is now, older and and more haggard. He’s in his bedroom at home, the same one he just left a few hours ago, fast asleep. 

“You went to school,” Veronica says. “The economy got really bad. Now you still live with your parents and have trouble finding work, just like everyone else. It’s not like, that bad. Again, at least nobody is dead in this situation. But it’s not that special or anything.” 

Zayn gives her glasses back and shuts his eyes. He doesn’t want that to happen to him. If he has the chance to live an extraordinary life, then he’s stupid not to take the opportunity. 

“What’s up with Liam?” Zayn says, nodding to the sleeping form a few rows ahead of them. 

“Why don’t you go ask him?” Veronica says. 

Zayn feels nervous. All along this strange journey, he’s felt terrified, scared for his life and for the lives of the people he cares about. Being nervous to talk to someone should pale in comparison to the things he’s already seen, but his heart beats wildly and his stomach drops. Zayn stands up and bumps his head on the overhead compartment, then slowly walks up the aisle to where Liam is sleeping. 

They’d just barely known one another, but Zayn feels the tug of connection between them. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since this Liam has seen him,but it was only a day or two ago since Zayn saw Liam last - his Liam. Even before they’d been put together in a group, they were instant friends. 

Zayn remembers Liam was actually more shy than him. It made Zayn feel stronger and more outgoing, and it made him want to be sweet. Even though he was shy and anxious himself, he wanted to help Liam realize there was nothing to be afraid of. Something about Liam made Zayn want to bring him out of his shell and to let him have a good experience. 

Watching Liam sleep now, Zayn has an instinct reach out and touch. He wants to let Liam know he’s here. 

Just then the captain makes an announcement that they’re about to hit some turbulence and could all the passengers remain in their seats and fasten their seatbelts. Zayn sits in the seat across the aisle from Liam and buckles up as fast as he can. A particularly rough patch of air jostles Liam awake. He seems confused and disoriented, so Zayn puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. Liam jerks out of the touch immediately and scowls. 

“Don’t touch me,” Liam says angrily. He leans forward and counts to himself with his eyes closed, breathing steadily in and out. 

“Sorry,” Zayn says, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Liam sighs, leaning his head back and rolling it to the side so he can see Zayn. “Don’t like to be touched, is all.” 

“Sorry,” Zayn repeats. He’s not sure what to say now that he’s sat here, plus he’s stuck until they reach smooth skies. He looks down at his hands, covered in new tattoos. He likes them a lot. He’ll have to remember them in case they disappear forever.

“Zayn?” Liam says, his voice soft. 

Zayn’s head whips up. He didn’t expect Liam to recognize him at all. 

“Is that you?” Liam says. 

“Yeah,” Zayn says. “Liam?” 

“Wow,” Liam says. “What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in years. You’re not like. Stalking me, are you?” 

“No, no,” Zayn says. “Nothing like that.” 

“I’ve had some problems with that,” Liam says. “Got all sorts of problems, really. Sorry, I don’t mean to unload on you like that. I just didn’t expect to see - anyone. Especially not you. I can’t believe it.” 

“I can’t either,” Zayn says. 

“You look really good,” Liam says, his eyes wide. “Like, really good.” 

“Thanks,” Zayn says. He’s still young inside this older body, and he flushes at the compliment coming from this man. 

Liam’s grown into a handsome man, at that. Zayn remembers him chatting at a mile a minute, his flat-ironed hair plastered to his face and his thin, pale frame wrapping around him in a hug. Now he’s bigger, obviously muscled though he’s covered in loose clothing. He’s got a full beard and tired eyes, and his lips are soft and full as he frowns at Zayn. 

“I’m surprised you recognized me,” Zayn says. “Barely recognize myself.” 

“God, I know,” Liam says. 

“You can talk to me, you know,” Zayn says. “I don’t mind if you need to unload.” 

Liam sits up and twists as much as he can. He looks Zayn up and down, sizing him up. Zayn wonders what’s going through his mind; he’s already accused Zayn of being a stalker, so he doesn’t know how it could be worse. Zayn tries to look as trustworthy and disarming as possible, his eyes open and his smile kind. 

“All right,” Liam says. 

The seatbelt alarm dings, and the captain says they can unbuckle. 

~*~ 

They both put the arms of their seats up so they can face one another, their knees almost but not quite touching in the middle of the aisle. Zayn sees Veronica put on a sleep mask and settle in. He focuses all his attention on Liam, and Liam at least seems glad for the company. He tells Zayn about how after Harry was killed tragically in the explosion, the band decided to go on indefinite hiatus. 

“I know this is terrible, but in a way, I felt sort of relieved,” Liam says. “Like, I was free of all of it. I mean, of course I didn’t want Harry to die, but I was so glad to be out of that group.” 

“Why?” Zayn says. “Wasn’t it a dream come true?” 

“No,” Liam says. “It was quite the opposite. We were constantly fighting with each other. None of us liked the music we were making. I never wanted to be in a group, really. Wanted to go solo for the longest time. I entered the X-Factor as a solo artist both times, you know. I’m just not made to be part of a group.”

Zayn knows it’s only been a short while, but it feels like ages since he looked up at the night sky and questioned his place in the group. It’s gutting him that Liam feels the same way about himself when he thinks back on the time they first got put together. Liam’s doubt of himself breaks Zayn’s heart. 

“So I tried to go solo,” Liam says. “It was what I wanted to begin with. Got label backing right away, ‘cause I was in Four Directions. Put out a record. It bombed. Put out another. That one bombed as well. They called me washed up. Said I was trying too hard. My label dropped me. I blew through all the money I had pretty fast.”

Liam doesn’t express any emotion as he rattles off his failures, like he’s telling someone his grocery list. Even though he’s being so casual about it, Zayn can see in his eyes that Liam’s haunted by every misstep he took, and that every cut is as fresh as it was the day it was made. Zayn’s knee comes into contact with Liam, but Liam doesn’t seem to notice. 

“I get by writing some songs here and there,” Liam says. “But I dunno. This isn’t where I thought I’d be. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to go on like this. It’s just nice to see a familiar face, I suppose.” 

“Have you seen the other lads?” Zayn says. 

“No,” Liam says. “I heard Louis has got a play or something, but I haven’t seen it. Niall mysteriously disappeared. He could be dead too, for all I know.” 

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Zayn says, trying to hold back a grimace as his mind flashes to Niall’s cabin in the woods.

“I thought I saw you once,” Liam says. “God, I completely forgot until now. It looked like you. Front row at a concert.” 

“Oh,” Zayn says. He doesn’t know whether he should lie or not. It was him, technically, but was it really? He figures it couldn’t hurt, since Veronica is the one who encouraged him to have a full conversation with Liam now. “Yeah, I went to a show.” 

“I knew it was you,” Liam says. “Not really your thing, yeah? I think you left early.” 

There’s a lull, and Zayn notices Liam is fixated on the tattoos on his arms. There’s a new ornate design on his wrist, one that he didn’t have before when they were watching Louis, so Zayn figures they must be further in the future. Liam reaches out, seemingly without even realizing he’s doing it, and grazes Zayn’s wrist with his fingertips, so gently it almost tickles. Zayn is surprised, because Liam just said he doesn’t like touching, and he’s seen how he reacts to touch now, but he doesn’t want to scare Liam off. He keeps still and lets Liam examine his skin, his fingers sweeping up over past his elbow before he yanks his hand away. 

“I’m so sorry,” Liam says. “God, that was rude. People probably do that to you all the time.” 

“It’s fine,” Zayn says. 

“Your tattoos are sick,” Liam says. “I don’t really have anything that I’d like to get, you know? Nothing that’s like, important enough to me to get permanently on my body.” 

“You’ll find something one day,” Zayn says. 

~*~

Liam says he’s getting a backache from sitting like this and wants to lie back, but instead of turning away from Zayn, he gets up and scoots past him to sit in the window seat next to Zayn, their knees knocking together. Liam nearly loses his balance and holds onto the hand Zayn holds up to keep steady until he’s seated. They talk and talk, for Zayn doesn’t know how long. He doesn’t even know where this flight is going. 

Veronica stands next to them dressed up as a flight attendant. 

“Would either of you gentleman like a pillow or blanket?” She says. 

“That would be great,” Liam says. 

Veronica gives each of them a pillow. Liam is busy fluffing and adjusting his behind his head when Veronica unfolds a blanket and lays it out over the both of them, effectively tucking them in together. She winks and skips back to the front of the plane, sitting down and pulling out a book. 

Liam doesn’t seem to mind they’re under the blanket together. He rolls over a little bit and faces Zayn, and Zayn does the same so they’re tipped toward each other, their heads close. Liam smiles a little, his face tired but calm. Zayn wants to kiss him, and the realization of that desire makes his heart feel wide open. 

They talk for a bit more, about nothing really, just two strangers who used to know each other chatting on a plane. Zayn feels his eyes get heavy and he knows he’s going to fall asleep, which is weird because he’s pretty sure he’s already asleep. Zayn doesn’t have time to think about it before his eyes close, never one to be able to resist a nap if he’s comfy. Then Liam speaks, so softly that Zayn doesn’t know if he’s meant to hear it or not. 

“I don’t know where it went wrong, Zayn,” Liam says, his voice low and rough. “From day one, probably. We just didn’t like, mesh, do you know what I mean? I wanted to make it work, but I didn’t know how. There were so many people telling us what to do or how to be. We wanted to be ourselves, yeah? We wanted to be us. Just us.” 

Zayn opens his eyes and Liam is right there. He can feel Liam’s breath on his cheek and see the sadness in his eyes. He wants to help Liam, just like he wanted to back when they first met. He knows exactly what he has to do. 

“I’m sorry,” Zayn says. 

“What for?” Liam says. “You haven’t done anything.” 

“I should’ve been there,” Zayn says. “I should have been with you.” 

“You can’t know that, Zayn,” Liam says. “It’s okay. It’s over.” 

“It’s not over,” Zayn says. “I’m gonna make this right.” 

He untangles them from the blanket and cups his palm around the back of Liam’s head, the vulnerable part of his skull above his neck, and brings their foreheads together. Liam looks confused, and his eyes are damp. They breathe together, their mouths almost touching, but before Zayn can kiss him, he’s gone. 

 

~*~ 

Zayn wakes up in his bedroom feeling the kind of hot and angry you feel only when you sleep for too long. He’s young and small, and he remembers everything for an instant. It all starts slipping away after that, the terrible things, the good things, the strange yet beautiful woman who helped him. They’re all distant now, like a movie he saw when he was little but can’t quite recall. All he knows is he has to meet up with the boys. He has to join them, he has to look after them, he has to - 

His little sister stares at him from beside his bed. She’s holding a mirror. 

“What are you doing?” Zayn says. 

“Mum told me to come hold a mirror over your mouth to make sure you’re still breathing,” she says. 

“What time is it?” Zayn says. 

“Half three,” she says. 

Zayn flies out of bed and scrambles around his room, throwing things around and frantically trying to dress himself. It’s too late, though; he’s overslept and already missed the band meeting. He looks at his phone and he has a couple missed calls, one from Liam and one from Louis. Liam’s the only one who left a message. 

“Look, Zayn, I didn’t want to have to do this,” Liam says. He sounds like a disappointed father, and he’s obviously trying to sound serious and stern. “But seeing as how you didn’t show up to the meeting, me and the lads all agree that maybe - “

Zayn doesn’t listen to any more. He calls Liam back immediately, and when Liam answers, he just starts apologizing from the bottom of his heart. 

“I’m so sorry, Liam,” Zayn says. He dimly recalls that he was just saying the same thing, to the Liam he didn’t get to know. “I want to make this right.” 

“Okay,” Liam says, sounding relieved. “I didn’t want to call you like that, anyway. Louis made me. He said it would light a fire under your bum.” 

“I said ass,” Zayn hears Louis say in the background. 

“He said ass,” Liam says. “Louis also says to make you feel bad because Niall had to come all this way. Niall said it was okay because he’s going to stay with Harry. Louis says - “ Liam huffs. “Jesus, Louis, do you want to talk to him yourself or can I finish?” 

Zayn feels like he could cry. Whatever happened in his dream won’t happen now, and Zayn’s going to make sure they never do. He’s been given a second chance; they all have. They’re young, and they’re here, and they’re all going to be together. Nothing can stop them but themselves. 

“Listen, it’s getting a bit late now,” Liam says. “We’re all getting ready to head home. But maybe you can come - Harry’s step-dad has like, this bungalow. We’re all gonna stay there for a week and hang out. You in for that?” 

“Yeah,” Zayn says. “I’ll be there.” 

~*~ 

The bungalow seems almost magical, like a place out of time. They walked onto the grounds and instantly felt like they’d known each other their whole lives, that they were meant to be there. They were talking for hours about what they were doing to do, how they were going to do it, and what was going to happen to them, and Zayn felt deeply he made the right decision a part of it all. 

Everyone’s gone to bed but Liam and Zayn. The campfire is small, mostly glowing embers now. They’ve pushed their chairs together and have both tucked under the same blanket, the summer night air around them cool and pleasant. They’ve moved on from more serious topics to more carefree things. Liam and Zayn have nearly all the same favorite songs, and Liam can sing them all by heart like it’s nothing. 

“I can’t believe I almost missed this,” Zayn says. He lays his head on Liam’s shoulder and nearly falls asleep right there. 

“I can’t either,” Liam says. “Why did you? Miss the meeting. I was so disappointed.” 

“I was scared,” Zayn says honestly. “Liam, I was so scared. I’m not that confident. you know?” 

“I’m terrified, myself,” Liam says. He finds Zayn’s hand under the blanket and covers it with his own, like a hand blanket. “I’m terrified of what’ll happen if we lose. Or if we win. Our lives are going to change so much. But we’ve all got each other. You’ve got me.” 

“I know,” Zayn says. He turns his hand around so they’re palm to palm. Liam’s hand is dry and warm, and Zayn sweats against him. 

“Don’t ever let us down again,” Liam says. The command sounds so serious, but it’s flavored with childish whimsy. Liam is so young, but Zayn is young too. 

“I won’t,” Zayn says. 

~*~ 

Liam and Louis are fighting again. Niall chews on his lip anxiously and watches them go at it. Zayn elbows him in the side until he catches his eye and makes a face. 

“Hey, come on,” Zayn says. He puts his arm around Liam’s shoulders, breaking up the fight, and Liam instantly stills. 

Zayn has figured out exactly how to bring Liam’s temper down to a minimum. He brings Liam into conversations and listens to him speak, probably in a way nobody has let him before. He hugs Liam and waits until Liam stops being tense and hugs back. He dances with Liam if they’re alone. He touches Liam’s back, his hand, kisses him on the temple. Zayn is free and easy with his affection, and he can see Liam is learning. He wants Liam to know he’s there, that they can face things together. Zayn’s always felt that he needs to help people who need more help than him, and he felt that he and Liam would always help each other, from the first day they met. 

~*~ 

Zayn is running away backstage, yelling that they’re free, while Louis follows close behind. Louis’ laugh, one of a cackling mastermind who’s just revealed his evil plans and those around him are helpless to stop him, chases after Zayn, making him run faster. Louis is one of the most creative, devilish people he’s ever known. He has to channel that demented energy somewhere, and Zayn’s happy to join him. 

“Zayn, help me!” Louis shouts. Zayn looks back over his shoulder, only to see Louis being tackled to the ground by Paul. The wig he’s wearing to disguise himself falls off. 

“You’re on your own, bro,” Zayn says, holding onto his own wig and sprinting. 

~*~ 

“Don’t eat that,” Zayn says, before they go out on stage. Harry found an apple of mysterious origin and he’s just about to set his teeth into it before Zayn slaps it out of his hand. 

“Heyyy,” Harry says. 

“And watch out for the pyro,” Zayn says. Harry doesn’t heed his warning and Zayn has to pull him back from the edge of the stage anyway, his heart beating out of his chest. 

~*~

“Who’s this arrow?” Zayn says, touching the chevron tattooed on Liam’s arm closest to his wrist. 

Liam vaguely explained he had this idea to get a tattoo as a tribute to the band when he first got it, but Zayn never really said anything about it except ‘sick tat, bro’. Now they’re sat next to each other on a red-eye flight to the States, starting the next leg of their tour. They’re turned toward one another and Zayn can’t help but look at Liam’s arms, his shorn hair, all the things about him, and notice how much he’s changed since they first met. 

“What?” Liam says. “They’re all the same.” 

“You didn’t think, ‘this one is Louis because he’s the foundation’ or ‘this one is Niall because he’s the cherry on top’ or anything like that?” Zayn says. 

“No,” Liam says, eyes crinkling in a smile as he knocks their foreheads affectionately, then rests there, their noses almost touching. “I care about you all equally.” 

“Really?” Zayn says. He licks his lips and tilts his face up, the noise of the airplane drowned out by the sound of Liam’s breathing. 

Liam and Zayn have kissed once by mistake, once as a joke, and once on a dare. Now, finally, Liam inhales shakily and meets him halfway. He deliberately presses his mouth to Zayn’s, and nothing about it is an accident. 

~*~ 

SUMMER 2013

Zayn’s just had his makeup done and he’s finishing up getting ready. The little details are really what makes the look come together, he thinks: the small wristwatch, the pencil skirt, the business casual blouse, which he’s wearing now unbuttoned, the white bra they gave him showing completely. The dangly earrings he puts on himself. They’re a little bit heavier than the studs he’s used to wearing, but he likes the way they look when he’s in character. There’s even a diamond ring for him to wear, but he’s not sure yet if he wants to put it on the right hand or the left, if he wants her to be engaged or not. 

He’s seen Niall and Louis going around in his costume in character and hassling everyone and they look fucking sick. He can’t wait to see what Harry and Liam look like. He’s so excited about this video. Just a few years ago, this would have been Zayn’s worst nightmare. Now he and his best friends are all dressed like fools and are about to have the time of their lives dancing around and making a mess together. 

The makeup and hair people move on to go find Harry, who’s probably off somewhere being a little shit. Zayn unwraps his hair himself and tries not to rip the wig off. It’s pinned everywhere and is kind of tugging at his head, so he moves the hair around until it feels comfortable, the long curls cascading down his shoulders. It’s not like, the best wig, but it looks good to him. He’s just sliding the cat-eye glasses on his face when he hears footsteps. 

“Wow,” Liam says from the doorway.

Zayn turns around and gasps, shutting his shirt like he’s really got anything to hide. Liam laughs and comes in, standing close. 

“What’s your name, miss?” Liam says. 

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Zayn.” 

“Oh, you’re no fun,” Liam says. He brushes Zayn’s hair back off his shoulders. “You look unbelievable. Like, really hot.” 

“This is turning you on?” Zayn says. “Really?” 

“It’s not not turning me on,” Liam says. “You look like a sexy secretary. Like, the sexiest secretary. Have you seen yourself?” 

Liam turns him around so they’re both facing the mirror. His big hand slides from Zayn’s naked waist up to his chest, cupping over the bra briefly, until it’s resting over his smooth throat. 

“We shouldn’t,” Zayn says, already giving in. “It’s not professional. Anyone could walk in.” 

“Just real quick,” Liam says. “Think about it. When are we gonna get a chance to do something like this again? Are you wearing anything under this?” 

“You could look,” Zayn says.

Liam hikes Zayn’s skirt up and smiles into Zayn’s shoulder when he finds nothing between his hand and Zayn’s hardening cock. 

“Look at that,” Liam says, biting down lightly at the tender crook of Zayn’s neck He pumps his fist over Zayn’s cock once, twice. “Is this for me?” 

Zayn stifles a moan. They really shouldn’t, but he can’t resist. He and Liam compromise in everything, always meeting each other halfway, if not all the way. Most of the time, though, they’re on the exact same page. He wants this, and he can’t deny Liam, either. 

Liam is completely fixated on his hand on Zayn’s cock in the mirror, but Zayn is fixated on Liam. His plump mouth hangs open and his heavy breaths puff into the hair at the nape of Zayn’s neck. He can’t seem to stop moving his hips against Zayn’s bare ass, the zipper of his jeans digging into Zayn’s skin. The skirt is rucked up fully over Zayn’s slim hips, and his knees wobble at the slick drag of Liam’s palm on him. 

“Come on,” Liam says against Zayn’s earn, his lips grazing the earring dangling from his earlobe. “Let me see.” 

Zayn leans forward and grips the edge of the vanity, coming quickly. Liam is careful not to get any on either of their clothes and wipes his hand off on a towel he finds. 

“Was that weird?” Liam says, steadying Zayn so he can lean against the vanity. “You’re just so beautiful, Zayn. Like in anything, you’re beautiful. I’m so lucky to have you, you know that? I think about that sometimes, like, how lucky we are, but me especially.” 

“It’s wasn’t weird,” Zayn says, the first thing he can think to respond to. “And I’m lucky, too. I love you, Liam.” 

“I love you, Zayn.” 

He tries to do up the buttons on his shirt, but he’s still trembling. Liam starts from the bottom and buttons them for him, all the right way, his hands sure and steady. 

“What about you?” Zayn says. 

“I’m fine,” Liam says. “I’ll give myself a chance to calm down. We’ll continue this later, yeah? Maybe they’ll let you keep the glasses.” 

“Zayn, you’re wanted on set,” someone shouts from outside the room. 

Zayn turns and looks in the mirror quickly and fixes said glasses, which were knocked askew. He’s leaning in to check that his makeup is still okay when his reflection winks at him and gives him an excited thumbs up. 

“What,” Zayn says. His reflection doesn’t match his movements at all. He realizes now, especially with the glasses on, that the character he’s dressed up as seems vaguely familiar, like an actress he saw in a movie when he was little. 

Cool dick, his reflection mouths at him. Sorry, that’s a weird thing to say. See you later!

“Come on, babe, let’s go,” Liam says, holding his hand out for Zayn to take. 

“But,” Zayn says, but he’s being whisked off back to his amazing job in his amazing life. 

~*~ 

The five of them sit in the theatre in a row. On the screen, Liam and Harry reminisce about the X-Factor days, how they used to be back then. Zayn can remember living through it all as if it happened yesterday, and he’s comforted by the knowledge that the four boys with him feel the exact same way as he does. Here they are, sat side-by-side, watching a film about the lives they’ve lived together. 

“Do you remember, when we went to the coffee shop, and Zayn didn’t turn up?” Liam says. “There was actually a serious conversation - do you remember that? A serious conversation about kicking Zayn out the band. Oh my god.” 

“Imagine,” Harry says. “Niall would have to be the mysterious one.” 

They all laugh, Niall most of all. Liam is sat beside Zayn and he laces Zayn’s fingers with his own. He can’t believe there could be a world where he’s not in this band. He doesn’t ever want to imagine it.


End file.
